


Derek doesn't understand idioms

by rachtay13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, 80's movie references, Cards Against Humanity, Clubbing, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachtay13/pseuds/rachtay13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles becomes the unofficial encyclopedia for phrases uttered in Derek's presence.</p><p>Or</p><p>Five times Derek doesn't understand what Stiles means and one time it doesn't matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek doesn't understand idioms

Scott looks uncomfortable, arms crossed and grimace on his face, eyes darting between Stiles and Derek.

Stiles doesn’t fucking care.

Derek should understand- should _know_ better than this by now: that just because he has teeth and claws, he _also_ has a mouth and tongue and sometimes- _just sometimes!_ \- words are better!

“This isn’t the way things are done,” Derek says calmly. He doesn’t look nearly as angry as Stiles feels at this moment. He’s standing there across the desk, back lit from the tall loft windows, shoulders tense, but still resigned.

“Well, maybe you should _change_ the way things are done! It doesn’t have to be a wolfy display of dominance. We’re kinda hurting for pack members right now anyway, don’t you think?”

Derek disregards this, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. “If we don’t fight, we’ll be seen as weak.”

“We _are_ weak. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to help you, help all of us, we should just talk to them. Lemme do it, I know you can’t form two proper sentences without growling.”

Derek doesn’t growl, but his jaw clenches. “No.”

“No?” Stiles waves his arms around in Derek’s direction, looking to Scott with wide eyes as if to say ‘ _Do you see? Do you see what’s going on here?_ ’

Scott sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Stiles has no sympathy.

“You don’t get to make the decisions anymore, you know that, right? Scott’s the Alpha now, and he has final say. Did you miss that? He has red eyes and everything, it’s terrifying,” Stiles mocks.

“I don’t need _you_ to tell me--” Derek begins, finger pointing at Stiles’ face.

“Okay, just shut up! Both of you. We don’t have to decide anything right now. We still have a week before they get here,” Scott says, hands up.

He tilts his head in Derek’s direction apologetically. “But I’d rather not fight them first thing.”

Stiles straightens in triumph, smug smile pulling at this cheeks. He stares Derek down, sure his eyes reflect his mirth. Scott heaves a sigh and walks away.

Derek swallows, jaw clenched tight. He stares straight back. “You’re wrong.”

Stiles shrugs, loosening his stance. “Yeah, well, you can suck my dick.”

Derek blinks, then the skin around his eyes tightens. “Sure, but not while Scott’s here.”

Stiles was just about to flip him the bird, but Derek’s reply stalls his brain. His mouth falls open and he can feel his tongue getting dry and tacky as he attempts to process what just happened.

He must have been joking, right? Yeah, Derek, master of the jokes. That had to be it...

After what simultaneously seems like a minute and an hour, Stiles turns and watches Derek let Scott out of the loft. Derek walks back, blank faced, and Stiles suddenly feels hot and very trapped.

“So-”

“I was just joking!” Stiles talks over Derek, needing to be heard.

Derek’s eyebrows do that thing, where he looks like he’s demanding more information, just from a tiny upward flick.

“It was an insult. I was insulting you.”

Derek’s face betrays nothing.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Feel really stupid about it now, so…” He wipes his hands on his jeans, wondering if Derek is ever going to say anything.

Derek shuffles back and forth and crosses his arms. “You were insulting me? By telling me to suck your dick?”

Isn’t that what he just said? “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

“Why would propositioning me for oral sex be an insult?”

His jaw drops open with a response before he has one formed in his mind. “It’s um… it’s just a saying.”

One dubious eyebrow rises. “I’ve never heard it before.”

Stiles snorts. “Uh, have you been living under a rock? Did you even go to high school? I know for a fact you’ve been in our locker room, so, just, wow. Good for you, I guess? Really, though? Never heard a gay joke, ever?”

“Why would being gay be a joke?”

Either Stiles has entered into the twilight zone or Derek is awesome at his deadpan humor, but in either case, he wants out of this conversation.

“You know, I’m not super qualified to teach anyone locker-room-English as a second language, so I’m just gonna go catch up with Scott, we’ll talk more about the- the uh- the um- the thing with the pack later, okay, bye!” He closes the door with maximum flails and hopes to god Derek couldn’t hear how terrified he was by the sound of his heart.

…

It’s a week later when Scott makes the final decision- they will stand strong against the incoming pack, presenting a united front, and he will speak to them first. If things go south, they’ll be prepared to fight.

Even through the triumph of getting his way, he feels wary and off as they assemble near the east border of town. Kira and Lydia are there with him, hanging back as Derek and Scott stand in the middle of road like misplaced lawn ornaments. He looks around and suddenly feels Allison’s absence acutely, like a punch to his throat.

Scott looks back at him, eyes sad.

Stiles swallows, looks away.

Scott turns back just as headlights pass over the trees.

“That’s them.”

…

“That. Was. _Awesome!_ ” Stiles crows as he flops on Derek’s couch, Lydia plopping down beside him. Derek goes to the kitchen, ignoring Stiles’ continued gloating.

Scott sits on his other side, collapsing into the cushions in exhaustion, but still smiles. “We got lucky.”

They got very lucky. The group of three was happy to talk, and it became clear that their arrival was not a threat, but that they were just passing through. Scott invited them over the next night for movies and games.

They accepted with smiles and offers to bring pizza.

Derek didn’t look at him once.

Kira already went home, but Stiles is amped up from unused adrenaline, and he can tell Lydia feels the same. He pops in a movie and Derek brings out some drinks. Scott falls asleep twenty minutes into it.

Lydia is running her fingers through Stiles’ hair, his head on her lap, when she remarks that he’d look lovely as a woman.

He bats his eyelashes at her. “Golly gosh, thanks Lyds.”

She smiles and makes him sit up. She rummages through her purse, and says, “Let’s see just how good I can make you look.”

He’s feeling relaxed and happy and lets her put mascara on his eyelashes, blush on his cheeks, and red lipstick on his lips. Her hands are delicate and gentle and he feels safe.

“Perfect. Take a look.” She hands over a compact mirror with a satisfied smile.

The first thing he notices is how large his eyes look. Then how his cheekbones pop, then how plump his lips are. He feels a little like Angelina Jolie.

He poses a bit, turning his face this way and that, then watches his lips part. He lowers his voice as he says to himself, “Would you fuck me?”

From the corner of his eye he can see Derek perk up and look over at him.

“I’d fuck me.” He laughs to himself, closing the mirror. “I’m gorgeous, Lyds. Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” Lydia smiles to herself as she tucks her purse closed. Stiles catches Derek staring at him, intense look on his face.

“What? You don’t think I’m pretty?”

Derek seems like he has a lot to say and can’t decide what to pick first. He finally squints and asks, “Why did you say that?”

“What? The ‘fuck me’ thing? That’s a movie reference.”

Derek looks incredulous.

“Buffalo Bill? Come on. I know you watch movies, you are not this sheltered.”

At Derek’s non-response, Stiles drops his head back in exasperation. “Who are you? Were you raised by wolves? Oh wait-”

When he raises his head, Derek is looking at the tv and giving him the finger.

Stiles drops the subject, but it still feels like he won.

...

Tony is hilarious. His contributions to Cards Against Humanity are by far the best, and Stiles has tears from laughing so much. Some of them aren’t even that funny, but he’s already high on endorphins and the littlest things are hitting him just right.

He lays down the black card, “What do old people smell like?” and waits for the group to hand over their answers. Lydia’s have been pretty spot on tonight, but almost too good. Scott’s are always off the wall, and Maddie’s have just been weird. But then again, she looks like an odd sort of girl.

Lydia is the last to hand hers over, sliding it across the beaten up coffee table with a smirk. He shuffles them up and flips them over one at a time.

“What do old people smell like? ‘A monkey smoking a cigar.’”

A few chuckles. Stiles can guess who that came from.

“‘Sean Connery.’ I like that one.”

Maddie smiles.

“‘A lifetime of sadness.’ Ha! Oh, that’s so sad.”

Everyone laughs at that one.

“And last we have… ‘Racism.’”

They all bust up, and Stiles collapses forward in silent laughter, hand over his face.

“That’s so perfect. That’s the winner!”

“Yes!” Tony pumps his fist in the air and snatches the black card for his growing pile.

“I’ve gotta pee. Derek! Hey, come play the next hand for me!” Scott gives his cards to Derek and leaves the circle. Derek sits by Stiles and looks through his hand. Tony has the next round, and lays down a black card for everyone.

“Dear Abby, I’m having some trouble with BLANK and would like your advice.”

Stiles finds one he thinks will win and slides it over. Maddie and Lydia lay one down quickly and Derek is still staring at his hand.

“Need some help there, buddy?” Stiles offers, leaning over to look at his cards.

Derek quickly shields them and shoots Stiles a dirty look. Slowly, he plucks one from his fan of cards and lays it down.

Tony snorts and shuffles the cards.

“Dear Abby, I’m having trouble with… ‘Sexting.’ Oh my. Let’s see… ‘growing a pair.’ Nice. ‘Shapeshifters.’ How appropriate!” Tony flashes his golden eyes. “And finally, I’m having trouble with… ‘Pretending to care.’ Ha! I like that one. Pretending to care.”

Stiles looks around, but no one is claiming the card.

“Who had it?” Tony asks.

Derek raises one finger.

Stiles blinks, nostrils flaring in surprise.

Scott gets caught up talking to Aaron, the Alpha of the other pack, so Derek plays the next round. Maddie lays down “I’m sorry, Professor, but I couldn’t complete my homework because of _____.”

Stiles knows the game is more about catering to the person picking than your own inclinations or he would have picked ‘World of Warcraft,’ but instead goes with ‘A pyramid of severed heads.’

Derek wins with ‘being a dick to children.’

Which. Seriously? It doesn’t even make sense.

Lydia goes next laying down “What brought the orgy to a grinding halt?”

Stiles has a few good ones but finally goes with ‘Dorito breath.’

The other answers are just as good: ‘peeing a little bit’ is Stiles’ favorite, ‘the ooze’ grosses him out, but ‘AIDS’ wins.

Derek smiles as he takes the card for his rapidly growing collection.

“Your turn, big guy,” Stiles says to prompt Derek out of his card rearranging.

Derek flips over a black card.

“When I am the President of the United States, I will create the Department of BLANK,” Derek reads in monotone.

When Derek reads off the answers, Stiles quickly realizes he went for a totally different angle than the rest of the group.

“‘Taking off your shirt.’” Derek rolls his eyes, while Lydia giggles.

“‘Sexual tension.’” Maddie grins.

“‘Hot people.’” Tony scratches the back of his head.

“And… ‘Repression.’” Stiles sniffs and clears his throat.

“Are these my only choices?” Derek asks, looking to Tony.

“Yep.” Tony puts on a false smile.

Derek sighs and points to Repression. “I don’t even know, but it’s better than the other ones.”

Stiles smiles and plucks up the black card.

“I don’t repress things," Derek says softly.

“Yeah, you keep thinking that, buddy,” Stiles says as he flips over the next black card.

“A romantic, candlelit dinner would be incomplete without BLANK,” Stiles reads.

He knows this one is gonna be good.

“Okay, a romantic, candlelit dinner would be incomplete without... ‘surprise sex!’ I like that. Would it be a surprise if it’s expected though? Anyway, next one… ‘silence.’”

No doubt who that one came from. Stiles looks at Derek adoringly. “Oh, you know me so well, boo.”

Derek furrows his brow.

“Next one is… ‘sweet, sweet vengeance.’ I do like a good vindictive spree. And the last one. A romantic, candlelit dinner would be incomplete without... ‘licking things to claim them as your own.’” Stiles laughs and Tony and Maddie join in, and he slaps the card down with finality. “Definitely my definition of romance. Yours?”

He holds the black card up for Tony, but he just shakes his head. Stiles looks around the circle, eyes finally landing on Derek who is giving him the most intense look he’s ever seen.

“Why’d you call me ‘boo?’”

Stiles freezes, card still up in the air, heart tripping over nothing.

“I was just joking. I thought you put down ‘silence.’”

“But why’d you call me ‘boo?’ What does that even mean?” Derek looks very confused and little annoyed.

“It’s uh… just a nickname. Like, a familiar thing, you know, like…”

“It means boyfriend,” Lydia cuts in.

“It doesn’t have to mean boyfriend,” Stiles counters quickly.

Derek suddenly looks very uneasy.

Stiles shakes his head, done with Derek’s ignorance. “Was this yours or not?”

Derek takes the card.

…

It’s getting late. Stiles can tell because everyone is getting a little loopy and giggling at nothing. They’re all sprawled out across the couch and floor, stacked with pillows, watching the Avengers, lights down low. Aaron, Maddie, and Tony are ridiculously cool, Stiles has decided, and wants to keep them forever.

Tony is beside Stiles, arm and thigh pressed up against his. Tony smells really good, and he’s the perfect temperature, warming him where they’re touching.

“Oh, I forgot. I brought these.” Tony offers him Twizzlers after getting them from the bag on the floor.

“Dude!” Stiles grabs one, tearing into it, and says very seriously, “I love you.”

“I know,” Tony says with equal gravitas.

Stiles throws his head back in laughter. “Dude! You- you are perfect. I will totally be your Leia. Do you think I’d look good in gold?”

Tony chews on a Twizzler and waggles his eyebrows. “Definitely. I’m not into chains though. Maybe we can get you some Rocky shorts. Tight, gold, really shows off the package.”

“Nah, man, I don’t have the muscles for that.”

Tony gives him a look, then pointedly drags his gaze down Stiles’ body. “I have to disagree.”

“Psh, that’d look waaaay better on you. I bet you have perfect abs.” Tony has that defined look to his arms. He has no doubt that carries over to all parts of his body. “I mean, no homo, but you’d pull it off easy.”

Tony just laughs and offers him another Twizzler.

Stiles directs his attention towards the tv again, but catches Derek’s eye across the room. He looks confused.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Want anything?” Stiles asks Tony.

“I’m good.”

He tiptoes over the bodies tangled on the floor and makes it to the kitchen without tripping or stepping on anyone. As expected, Derek looms not long after he opens the refrigerator door.

Stiles sighs and cracks the soda can open. “What’s up?”

“What’d you mean in there?”

Stiles shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “When?”

“You said something about thinking something would look better on Tony…”

“Yeah. Little golden shorts. You need a certain… physique to pull them off.”

Derek makes an irritated little jerk and crosses his arms. “No, it was something else.”

Stiles runs the conversation through his mind, wondering what in the world Derek is talking about. “We were talking about Star Wars… and then about Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

“No, no, it was a phrase you said, two words. ‘No something.’”

“Oh, ‘no homo?’”

Derek nods.

God, when will he learn to shut his mouth in Derek’s presence? “Uh, that just means, like. Uh, like, ‘don’t take this the wrong way’ kind of thing.”

Derek squints. “Like ‘no offense?’”

Stiles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly.”

“Why would he take offense to you complimenting his ‘physique?’” Derek uses finger quotes.

Stiles feels his eye twitching. “Uhmmm…”

“And what does ‘homo’ mean? Is that slang for something?”

“Oh, Derek, you poor sheltered child. Do you know what urban dictionary is? Here, lemme see your phone.”

Derek slowly hands his phone over, and Stiles tries to open an internet browser.

“You don’t have a smart phone.”

“No? I don’t need one.”

“You don’t-- oh god, I don’t even know how to deal with you. Do you even know what the internet is?”

“Yes,” Derek hisses, scowling.

“Well, how am I supposed to know! If you were a part of any sort of internet culture you’d know this stuff, like, five years ago.”

“Five years ago, I was living in a shitty apartment in New York with my sister, too focused on finding our next meal to play on the internet.”

Stiles steps back at that, but quickly thinks through it. “Didn’t you have insurance money?”

“Peter.”

Stiles doesn’t need any further explanation.

“Right, well, you’re doing well for yourself now. So.”

Derek just stares, lifting his eyebrows like he’s waiting for something.

“What?”

“Are you going to tell me what it means or not?”

Stiles groans.

“Is it embarrassing or something?”

“It’s embarrassing to explain it!” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “‘No homo’ means ‘No homosexual connotations meant.’”

“So…” Derek furrows his brow in thought. “So you didn’t want Tony to think you were hitting on him.”

“Yeah.”

Derek looks even more confused by that. “But you’re attracted to him.”

Stiles stops breathing.

“He’s a wolf, he could smell the same things I could-”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Stiles whispers, slapping a hand over Derek’s mouth. He drags Derek further into the kitchen and crowds him up against the pantry door.

Derek's eyes are wide, but not angry. Stiles removes his hand just in case.

"Sorry, just- just shut up."

They stare at each other for a long moment until Derek opens his mouth.

"You know you're only making it worse for yours--"

"Oh my god!" Stiles slaps his hand over Derek's mouth again. He's hardly been able to acknowledge his attraction towards Tony to _himself_ ; there's no way he wants to talk to _Derek_ about it.

He leans in close and whispers in Derek's ear. " _Just shut the fuck up_. We are not discussing this."

He storms out of the kitchen and locks himself in the bathroom. He doesn't leave until his heart has calmed and his hands are no longer shaking.

He consciously ignores his motivations, but he gets Tony's phone number before they both leave the loft.

...

They can't always get lucky.

The next group of werewolves are not the friendly kind.

Scott had barely introduced himself before the alpha lept, claws out and teeth bared. Thankfully the other pack was small, and to Stiles' eyes, seemed young and inexperienced.

Scott took the worst of it, deep slashes in his side, across his hips and thighs, and bled all over Stiles' backseat. He drove them back to Derek's at Scott's insistence.

"I can do it. Really," Scott says, swaying as he takes a step.

"You're about to pass out. Come on, you sad puppy, lean on me." Stiles gets more of Scott's weight than he bargained for, stumbles a little, but manages to get him upstairs without falling.

Derek follows them with serious eyes as Stiles takes Scott into the bathroom.

"I'll take over here, you go get some sweat pants. Third drawer down," Derek says.

Stiles looks at Scott. "That okay with you?"

Scott nods, eyes bleary and half shut.

Stiles snorts. "Okay, buddy. We're gonna take care of you."

Derek helps him get Scott undressed, shouldering his weight as he steps into the shower.

Scott is looking more awake, but also more pained.

"Be right back bud," Stiles says. "Don't drop the soap."

Scott snickers. "I would for you, Stiles."

"Aw, Scott, you sweetheart." Stiles leaves the room, but sees the confused look on Derek's face as he passes.

He quickly grabs sweatpants and a shirt, some water and a banana and comes back to find Scott clean and mostly healed. Scott takes the water and chugs it, dresses slowly, and Derek helps him to the couch.

While Scott chews on the banana, Stiles strips out of his own bloody shirt and washes up.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" Stiles asks, emerging from the bathroom. Derek turns and stares, eyes dropping down and back up Stiles' body.

"Can I?" He asks again when Derek hasn't said anything.

Derek blinks. "Sure."

He picks an oversized sweater that he's never seen Derek wear. It's ridiculously comfortable; it even has thumb holes.

Stiles finds Scott still on the couch, alone, falling asleep. The bathroom door is shut.

"Hey. Scott. Hey, do you want me to take you home?"

Scott shrugs but doesn't open his eyes.

Stiles sighs and sits.

When Derek finally comes out, Scott is snoring and Stiles is crashing.

"Can we stay here tonight?" Stiles asks with one eye open.

"Sure." Derek looks uneasy, eyes sliding back and forth between him and Scott.

Stiles perks up at that, raising his head. "What?"

"Just... Do you guys want the bed?"

Stiles glances at Scott, sprawled across most of the couch, and snorts.

"I don't think he's gonna move unless you move him."

Derek shifts, and his fingers run along the seam in the couch upholstery. "What about you?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah." Not much of a decision, he always sleeps better if he's you know, _laying down._

They're both warmly ensconced in the comforter, an easy distance between them, when Derek says something.

Stiles takes a deep breath, waking fully again. "What'd you say?"

"Nothing. Sorry."

"What, Derek. What'd you say?"

Silence reigns for a long moment. Stiles studies the window panes, dimly lit from the outside by street lamps.

"Can I ask you a question?" Derek meekly asks.

"Of course."

"You can't judge me though, okay?"

"I promise I won't."

"Okay..." Derek goes silent after that.

"Derek?" Stiles purposely slows his heart and breathing, forcing himself to remain calm.

He can hear Derek sigh, and feels the bed shift as he turns on his side to face Stiles.

"Okay. Um. What did you mean earlier? ‘Don't drop the soap?’"

Stiles splutters, laughing loud and long, clutching his stomach. "Oh my god! I thought you had like, a serious question. Oh man, Derek, you are ridiculous."

"I thought you said you weren't gonna judge."

"Derek! Come on man! You're just so- so-- I don't even know what the right word is, but it's ridic."

Derek huffs and turns all the way around, pulling the blanket with him.

"Hey! Come on... Derek..." Stiles tugs on the blankets ineffectually. "Derek! Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, you just caught me off guard. I'd be happy to answer your question if I can have some of the covers."

Derek does nothing.

"Pleeeease?"

Derek throws the blankets over Stiles, hitting him in the face.

"So what did you mean?"

Stiles untangles himself and gets comfortable again. "It's a saying."

"Yeah, I got that much." Derek has turned towards him again, and Stiles suddenly feels nervous, too scrutinized under Derek's attention.

"Have you ever seen a prison movie?"

Stiles can almost hear Derek's eyebrows furrowing.

"Never mind. It means, that like, in a group shower situation, don't drop the soap because... you'd have to bend over."

Derek processes that for a moment. "So, it's a warning to guard yourself against rape?"

"Yes," Stiles breathes, relieved Derek connected the dots.

"You thought I would rape Scott?"

" _What?_ No! No, never!"

"But you warned Scott to not get raped..."

"It's just... ug, Derek, it's a saying, it was just a joke. Did you not have any male friends growing up?"

Derek seems to take the question seriously, pausing before he answers. "There was Peter. But we weren't really friends."

Stiles suddenly feels intensely sad, and incredibly angry for all Derek had to miss out on, for all he had to endure. "I know it doesn't change anything, but I'm really sorry about Paige. And everything with Kate. And... Laura. I'm sorry for all the shit I put you through when you first came back."

Derek is silent for a long time. Stiles picks at a thread on the comforter.

Derek shifts and then speaks softly. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through. No one should have to be used against their will like that."

Stiles feels his throat close up. He breathes shallowly through his nose, fists clenched around fabric and stuffing, and tries to stop the flood of images threatening his mind.

Stiles snaps out of it when Derek's fingertip touches his bicep.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Thanks for explaining."

Stiles takes two deep breaths before he trusts his voice.

"No problem."

Stiles can sense that Derek is done talking, but he can't help but say what he's been thinking all evening.

"Hey thanks for not- um. For not rubbing it in my face."

"Rubbing what in your face?" Derek's voice trickles to him in the darkness like a line in the ocean. He takes it and holds on. Breathes.

"For not telling me I was wrong. About the pack tonight. Scott would have been fine if we did it like you said we should, weeks ago."

"Not true. We can't know that," Derek says softly. "And I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't... gloat about it."

"You're a better person than me," Stiles says through a shaky laugh.

"No, not better." Derek doesn't elaborate on that. "We want the same things, I think."

Stiles knows he means for the pack. He nods.

"Protection. Keep everyone alive. Stay together. I don't like seeing Scott hurt any more than you do." Derek's voice is calm, soothing.

"Yeah. Thanks though." Stiles needs to feel like Derek heard, that he understands that it's not just about being a decent person, it's apologizing for not giving credit to Derek when he deserved it.

"No problem," comes the soft response.

...

Scott is completely fine the next day, but he takes it easy, chilling at Stiles' place, and they play video games most of the day.

"Have you heard from Aaron at all?" Stiles asks.

Scott glances at him from the corner of his eye. "No. Why?"

"Just wondering. I really liked all of them. If Aaron wasn't already an alpha..."

Scott smiles. "Yeah. They would be great in our pack."

They lapse into silence, but Scott's knee starts jiggling. Stiles smiles when Scott finally speaks.

"Have you talked to Tony at all?"

"Just a couple texts. He's funny." Stiles shrugs.

"Yeah, seems like he has your sense of humor."

"He gets my references, so he's miles above everyone in this town."

"Yeah." Scott's smiling a little, but his knee is still jiggling.

It takes him almost two minutes to work up the courage to come out with his next sentence. Stiles stifles a laugh.

"He's pretty um... fit, too."

Stiles does laugh at that. "Fit?"

"You know, good looking... I don't know."

"You're a good friend, Scott. I give you an A for effort."

Scott sighs. "You know you can talk to me right? About anything. I mean, we haven't really talked about the um... stuff with the..."

"Nogitsune. You can say it, Scott."

"I know, I just..."

They play for a while longer, but Stiles can sense how unhappy Scott is. He pauses the game and sets the controller down, leaning forward and rubbing his hands over his face.

"I know I haven't talked about it, but... with everything else, Allison. I..."

Scott is just nodding, mouth twisting left and right, eyes moist as he looks at Stiles, understanding.

"But I know we can still talk. It's just hard. To... actually talk."

"Funny, coming from you."

Stiles snorts. "I know, right? I almost had a panic attack in Derek's bed last night because I thought he wanted me to talk about it."

Scott blinks at that. "So, was Derek, like, prying? I can talk to him-"

"No, no, nothing like that. He was just offering sympathy."

Scott nods. Stiles gets lost in his thoughts, remembering Derek's soft smile this morning as he let them out of the loft.

"So are you gay?" Scott says in one rush.

Stiles stares, wide eyed.

"I think that came out wrong..." Scott says quietly.

Stiles looks away. "Uhhhmm..."

"I mean, you... you do like Tony, right?"

"Jesus, Scott..."

"You guys were flirting- you were blatantly checking each other out- and I know Derek kinda called you on it, which was not cool--"

"Yeah, okay, I might have a- a--"

"Crush? A hard-on for him? A thirst for his body?"

"Oh- _my god._ One: never say anything like that to me again. _Where did you even learn_ \- never mind. Two: I had an _interest_ in him that was not purely... pure." He grimaces at his word choice, but knows Scott doesn't care, judging by the goofy grin on his face.

"So, I am not one hundred percent... Uh. Hetero." He twists his hands in his lap, stupidly nervous at admitting what he's been suspect of for a long while.

"That's awesome, man!"

"Oof!" He finds himself on the floor, squished in Scott's embrace.

"Thanks for the support, Scott, but your knee is in a terrible spot right now- oh god, thank you, resume the hugging."

...

"I had an interesting conversation with Scott yesterday," Lydia says as finishes applying lipstick, watching herself in her vanity mirror.

Stiles catches the pillow he'd been throwing, quickly putting all the pieces together before Lydia has even turned around.

"Wait. You didn't think- I'm not going to be your gay bff, that is not what's going to happen here. Nope. I'm not even gay, so. No shopping trips or-"

Lydia turns, pout on her face. "You sure? How am I going to get you any attention tonight at the Jungle in those clothes?"

Stiles looks down at himself. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Lydia smiles and picks up her purse.

"Wait, no, why are we going to the Jungle? And I _like_ my clothes, okay?"

"Oh sure, me too, but think of all the boys and girls that would like you from first glance if you had slightly better packaging..." Lydia tilts her head and waits.

Stiles stares, eyes narrowed, wondering why he ever agreed to come over today. Lydia had said 'research' and 'we can study in my bedroom' and 'my parents are out of town' and _'I have Reese's_ ' and he'd jumped, like an over eager puppy.

"No thanks." He throws the pillow up.

"Stiles." He catches the pillow and sees the serious look on Lydia's face. "I don't have anyone else. My best friend is gone. I don't want-" She looks away and swallows. "I just want your company."

Now he feels like shit. He stands and hugs her. "I'm sorry Lyds." She hugs back fiercely. He whispers in her ear, "You're buying me a pretzel. And I'm not carrying your bags."

Lydia pulls back smiles likes she's humoring him. "Of course." She jiggles her keys. "Let's go!"

...

Turns out Danny invited Lydia to the Jungle, and once Scott's big mouth blabbed about Stiles joining the not-strictly-straight, the decision to adopt Stiles as her charge had been easy.

Stiles was repulsed by the whole thing. So disgusted was he that he let Lydia buy him two pretzels, five 'staple' pieces for his wardrobe, and a new cologne that she swore would not be overwhelming to supernatural noses, but was still very appealing.

"Stop. Stop it," Lydia barks, smacking his hands away from his hair. "You're messing it up."

"What's to mess up? It's everywhere!" He thinks it's a bit much. The _whole look_ is a bit much for him. He keeps glancing at himself in Lydia's mirror, unused to seeing so much of his body defined. His pants are crushing his balls, and his scrap of a shirt stretches taut over his chest and stomach. The cutoff sleeves are probably the worst part; he likes his arms, but they aren't anything worth showing off like this.

"It's perfect, leave it." She tugs down her miniskirt and with one last look in the mirror, pushes him out the door.

...

The Jungle is not packed, thank god. It's full, but he can still breathe. Lydia takes his hand and drags him over to the bar. He has no idea how she manages to get them drinks, considering the large X's on the back of her hands, but he's not paying attention.

He's watching someone on the dance floor.

The back of his head and slope of his shoulders is oddly familiar, but seems out of place. Whoever it is is dancing close with another guy, a blond, and his arm is around his waist, thigh between his, hips dipping with the beat. The blond seems more into himself than anything, eyes closed and arms above his head. Stiles can't stop watching; the familiarity is itching at him, like a name on the tip of his tongue.

"Stiles- here." Lydia hands him a drink and he tears his eyes away from the guy on the dance floor to take it.

He's unsure of himself, wondering what to do now, so he stands by Lydia sipping his drink and searches for the guy again.

The lights are low and music loud and his drink is really fucking strong and he can't spot him. He cranes his head, going up on his tiptoes, and suddenly remembers how tight his pants are.

"Looking for someone?"

Stiles whirls to his right, sloshing his drink in surprise.

"Derek!"

Derek leans on the bar beside him, eyebrows flicking up in acknowledgement. Stiles can't help but notice how normal Derek looks- same clothing as ever- but how _very_ _different_ at the same time. His body is loose and relaxed in a way he's never seen before, and is that a sheen of sweat on his forehead? Since when does Derek sweat?

"What are you doing here?" Derek asks, as if he doesn't really care why Stiles is here, but he's annoyed about it.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm clubbing!" Stiles throws his arms out wide. "I've got the clothes, an alcoholic beverage, a cute girl-" he turns to find Lydia missing. A quick scan of the dance floor reveals that she's found Danny and ditched Stiles.

"Well, I had a cute girl... I guess now I have a cute guy, huh?" He slaps Derek on the pec, accenting it with a wink.

Derek raises his eyebrows, unmoved.

"So… what are you doing here?" Stiles counters.

"Dancing." Derek looks out at the dance floor.

"I didn't know you danced." Stiles isn't sure Derek hears him over the sound of happy screams as the music changes to a Beyoncé song.

"Come on," Derek says and grabs his drink out of his hand, throws it back in one swallow, and sets it on the counter.

"Hey!" Stiles protests as Derek drags him out into the middle of the crowded mass of dancing bodies.

Derek finally stops and turns, pulling Stiles close, one hand on his ribs, one thick thigh between his scrawny ones.

Stiles had never noticed just how slim Derek has gotten. He's still big compared to Stiles, but wrapped up in him, he feels on more equal footing than he did a year ago, holding him afloat in a pool.

Stiles catches the beat but he feels awkward, never having danced this close to someone before. He tentatively places a hand on Derek's torso, but Derek doesn't seem to mind; Derek is, he's- he's--

- _enjoying himself_ , Stiles is amazed to find. Derek's face is one of relaxed bliss; mouth soft and eyes heavy lidded, body moving fluidly with the beat.

He looks amazing.

"I didn't know you could dance," Stiles says into Derek's ear.

Derek looks at him and smirks. Stiles is so thrown off by his expression he almost misses his response.

"Have you seen the movie Center Stage?"

Stiles is confused. "Dude! Of course! Have _you_?"

Derek visibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Sometimes you just need to loosen up, do something different, you know?"

“Yeah, yeah, I do know. I just didn’t know that _you_ knew that.”

“I know a lot of things,” Derek says, exasperated.

“But not what ‘no homo’ means.”

Someone keeps bumping into him from behind, pushing him further into Derek’s space. Now he has one arm over Derek’s shoulder, the other around his waist, cheeks brushing as they speak into each other’s ears.

Derek's fingertips dig into his back. “I’m not actually clueless, no matter how idiotic I must seem.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot!” Stiles squawks, turning to his face to look into Derek’s eyes. His nose grazes Derek’s cheek bone. “You make me feel like an idiot. Like I’m some immature teenager who says stupid stuff and can’t talk about the important stuff either- and then explaining it all to you is the most embarrassing-”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. You’re brilliant.”

Derek’s eyes are serious, sober. Stiles stares longer than he should. He unconsciously licks his lips, then watches as Derek’s gaze drops momentarily to his mouth. Derek mimics the movement, and Stiles watches in turn, seeing the sheen of wet appear over Derek’s lips.

Because at times like these Stiles has no brain-to-mouth filter, he blurts, “Is that a phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Derek's eyes are slow to respond, but he finally blinks, eyebrows rising.

"That's my dick."

Stiles feels like he was just punched, breath whooshing out and throat clicking. "Right, sorry."

Derek puts a little more space between them. "Does it bother you?"

"No! No, I'm... It's fine." Stiles holds Derek more firmly, heart hammering as he aligns their hips fully. Arousal heats him from the inside out, sweat breaking out over his lower back. Derek's hands become more sure on his body, pressing up and in.

"You sure?" Derek breathes right into his ear, stubble catching and rasping on his jaw.

Derek begins moving his hips in such a way that makes Stiles gasp and vision go out of focus.

"Very," Stiles finally manages to say.

Stiles lets Derek move him, going pliant, rocks into him with the beat.

He's too hot, but still shivers when Derek's thumb pushes up under his shirt and pulls him even closer.

He doesn't know why this is happening or where it's going, but he's not questioning it.

Stiles focuses on the feeling of Derek's body against his, strong and solid, his hips moving like waves, and feels drunk. His mind is slow, heavy, all attention diverted to the fire across his skin, everywhere Derek touches.

These pants are really not made for this, he thinks. Derek's breath huffs across his ear and he feels a hand begin to move south, dragging over cloth, to his ass.

Derek palms him, then grabs, pulling Stiles into him as he grinds.

He's never been worried about jizzing his pants before, but now- oh, now Derek is mouthing at his ear, lips catching and sliding and that's a bit of tongue right there, yep, that's saliva cooling-

"Jesus, Derek," Stiles shudders as Derek grinds into him again.

It's like a switch flips when Derek hears his name, and he freezes, tensing, makes a low, rough sound in his throat, and then Derek has one hand cradling his head, pressing their foreheads together.

Stiles waits patiently as Derek gains control of his breathing, focuses on Derek's parted lips.

"Can I kiss you?" Derek asks, chest rising and falling heavily.

Stiles barely nods before his mouth is assaulted.

Derek's mouth is firm, desperate, like he's been starved. Stiles tries to give back what he's getting, but Derek is too much.

He tugs on Derek's hair, wondering when his hands _went_ to Derek's hair, and takes charge. He holds his head still while he drags his lips across, down, pulling Derek's lower lip out between his teeth. He breathes against his mouth, noses brushing, and Derek's eyes are overblown, hazy. When Stiles kisses him fully, Derek responds languidly.

His kiss is open, hot, more tongue than lips.

The countdown to coming in his stupid tight pants is nearing zero, and this either needs to stop or move somewhere private, or at least dark. He doesn't want randoms seeing him nutting off in his pants.

They break off, Stiles breathlessly suggesting they take this elsewhere, and Derek blearily leads him off the crowded dance floor. Stiles is floating, happy to have Derek's hand in his, elated to finally get his fucking pants open.

Derek can't wait either it seems; he rips open Stiles’ fly as soon as he's found a dark corner. He doesn't waste any time, palming Stiles and diving back in for a kiss.

Stiles can only hold on, hands in Derek's hair and body writhing, gasps and cut off moans escaping them both. It quickly becomes too much, and he spills, falling over the edge with a grunt.

Derek strokes him through it. He slows his kisses, cradling Stiles' face in his palm, calming him with gentle, lingering caresses.

All Stiles can think is, _what the fuck was that. What the literal fuck_.

He keeps his breathing calm, trying not to betray how freaked out he is, and thankfully Derek has more cognizance than him right now. He pulls Stiles' shirt up and off, uses it to wipe up Stiles' come.

"Hey, that's new," Stiles protests weakly.

Derek catches his eye and smirks. "Yeah, well, you can suck my dick."

Stiles feels a giddy grin spread across his face, and he can't help but laugh. His panic dissipates, and he grabs at his chest, as if flattered. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Derek smiles. "Text Lydia, let her know we're leaving."

...

Derek's bed feels different when he's naked in it.

Derek himself looks different when Stiles is naked in it. Soft and happy.

Stiles feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> (Derek: "Can I call you 'boo' now?")


End file.
